


Slip

by asagohan_no_bento



Series: How Sans Got His Groove Back [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adult!Frisk, Dancetale, Drabble, F/M, Gen, One!Shot, agender!Frisk, light Frans shipping, mute!Frisk, there are no puns the eff is wrong with this picture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8455033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asagohan_no_bento/pseuds/asagohan_no_bento
Summary: A DanceTale One!Shot.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by Phillip Chbeeb's choreography for the song Slip by Elliot Moss. 
> 
> Watch it here: https://youtu.be/qk00gbDwGqM
> 
> Yes I realize that the style is lyrical and not exactly hip hop or ballet, but I couldn't get the thought of Sans and Frisk dancing to this out of my head. 
> 
> DanceTale AU created by teandstars

\--

It had been a good decade since they had made it to the surface. 

A solid ten years of laughs, family, friends, experiences good and bad. All in all everything that they could've ever hoped and dreamed of. 

And yet, here Sans was, still untrusting, still scared. 

Still afraid that all of this was just going to slip right through his fingers. 

He hadn't danced since...well.

_Since the last time it had been necessary._

Back during that horrible horrible _unmentionable_ time. That time that Sans would rather just forget. 

But that was never going to be an option for him. Not after Chara, not after Frisk had given into that...that wolf in sheep's clothing.

Somehow, he had managed to navigate his way out of every moment when his brother or another part of their extended entourage of friends and family had asked him about it. Or to join them. Or to teach them. 

_"Yoooo Sans, everyone says you're an amazing dancer, could you like show me your moves?!"_

_"HOW CAN A MONSTER NOT DANCE BROTHER?! IT MUST BE VERY PAINFUL FOR YOU TO JUST WATCH!"_

_"I could always teach you if you've forgotten, my friend."_

He would be lying if he said it didn't hurt, to deny himself the essence of what made monsters who they are — as individuals and as a species, but he was known for his patience, his restraint. His general demeanor of doing absolutely nothing. 

That is...until it was absolutely necessary. Like he had done already when it had been. 

They would never understand that pain. They'd never be able to comprehend the absolute terror of having to twist their beautiful medium into something cruel, into something ugly. 

Something violent. 

But he had. Because it was vital to their survival. To their future. 

To everything that was around them now. 

So why couldn't he just enjoy what he had worked and sacrificed so much for?

A subway train passed through the underground station at breakneck speed, creating a howling wind and whipping some debris into the air. 

-Sans? Are you even listening?- Frisk signed in a grand fashion to try and get his attention. 

"*huh? oh sorry kid, what were you sayin'?" He responded, giving a slight grin and scratching the back of his head in a habitual gesture. 

-I was saying how you've seemed really distracted lately. Even Papyrus started noticing... Are you okay?- And damn if they didn't look genuinely concerned. 

Sans was picking Frisk up from an audition with a city dance company, they had agreed to meet for a delicious carbo-load after to preemptively celebrate. 

Frisk had flourished into an amazing dancer, talented beyond anything Sans had ever seen, it was a no-brainer that they'd be given a position. 

This was supposed to be about Frisk, about celebrating their accomplishments. Not about him and his damage. 

"*yeah, you know me. i'm just all up here," Sans gestured vaguely to his temple, "instead of being here." a sharp couple points to the ground.

"*sometimes i forget..." he trailed off as another train pulled through the station loudly.

-Forget?- Frisk asked, features patient and understanding. 

In a rare fit of altruism, Sans decided to be completely honest, "*how much i used to love dancing."

Their features turned perpetually sad. -What's stopping you then?-

He let out a sharp chuckle, "*you took it from me." His words were far more harsh than he had intended, but they were the truth. At least to him anyways. 

There was a long silence between them and it felt almost as if time itself had stopped. 

-I'd like to give it back if you'd let me.- They finally confessed, taking a seat cross legged on the floor. 

"*i don't think it's that simple, bud." Sans quipped, stuffing his hands idly in the pockets of his shorts. It had taken him a long time to ditch the safety blanket of his blue hoodie, but he eventually gave into gradual wardrobe changes as he adjusted to life on the surface. He still tended to cover his arms, currently doing so with a gray long sleeve, but he never seemed to be able to diverge from a good pair of long shorts. 

Frisk became mildly indignant, crossing their arms over their chest before bringing them out to sign, -You'll never know until you try.-

"*heh, guess you're right about that." He crouched down to their level on the ground. He gave them a reassuring smile, showing that he wasn't angry, but he was tired of the pretenses. So tired of hiding and pretending that he was fine with how things were. 

He was burnt out, had it truly been ten years?

"*alright," He spoke up, looking around the station warily. They were the only two waiting for the train, it was a pretty unused line, one that dropped off out of the city and towards the country side where most of monsterkind still resided, "but i'll need you to keep to me."

He smirked cockily, "*think you can? you ain't too tired?" 

Frisk's features instantly turned confident, itching to prove themselves to him, -Pretty sure I'm in better shape than you bone boy.- They teased. 

He let out a large sigh, sitting before them in the same fashion, legs crossed. He held out his hands and let them float between them, one hand facing up while the other faced towards the floor. 

Frisk laid their hands in conjuncture to his, one palm down and the other towards the ceiling and in between Sans' boney ones. 

This commitment to their duet brought them into a standard encounter mode that seemed to materialize on a separate plane of existence. Like a clear piece of film that layered them on top of their reality but not in it. Frisk felt shivers run down their spine from buried memories of being in this situation with Sans before, but under far worse circumstances. 

"*here we go." A quiet song began to play, sounding almost like a voice being slowed down, and Frisk snapped to attention. They weren't going to let Sans down, not again. 

Sans saw that determined glint in their eyes and knew they were ready. Focusing all his attention on what was happening before him, instead of the raw memories that were trying to spring to the surface from the last time he had initiated a dance with what was technically Frisk, he began. 

The song was light, simple. Nothing overly instrumental, just soft, melodic, harmonized vocals, conveying exactly what Sans was trying to express and what he was going to share with Frisk 

_'Whoa, whoa, whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa.'_

Their palms teeter tottered back and forth a couple times before Sans scooped their hands together and away, arms swooping around their heads and legs. Frisk imitated him perfectly, barely a millisecond behind as they mirrored his movements. 

_'Whoa, whoa, whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa.'_

They were a pair, perfectly in sync as their legs wrapped together in a complex movement of limbs that made them fit together like cogs, spinning and fitting perfectly until they grew into an efficient movement that allowed themselves to pull the other off the ground as equals. 

_'I won't keep watching you.'_

Frisk turned gracefully to allow Sans to lift them up by their underarms, holding their smaller frame above and around himself, back to back. Frisk's form was cambré, dainty arms— trained for years from ballet and various other styles, arched behind them and towards Sans' face, covering his eye sockets briefly.

_'Dance around in your smoke and flicker out.'_

Sans released his hold on Frisk, allowing them to slide down his back to stand behind him. He held his hands out behind himself to them, already knowing they would respond, turning the both of them around in a connected movement, The short skeleton then spun into a seated position in front of Frisk before he swooped his arms out, turning back to stand, Frisk following him all the while.

Frisk took a wide stance, knees bent and feet going into a demi pointe in anticipation for his next move. Sans effortlessly hooked his hands under their bent knees, hoisting them off the ground again, into a fetal position with their hands covering their face. Frisk extended their legs up, the action copied by their arms before Sans rocked them sideways, gaining momentum to flip them around, legs in a grand jeté, arms holding strong around Sans' neck. 

_'You're not the light I used to know.'_

With another quick hoist Frisk was tucked into his chest, bridal style, before being laid out in his grip while a wavelike motion rocked through Frisk's body, starting from their toes and traveling all the way to their head. Sans laid them down gently on the ground, turning once before hooking his heels against their torso, laying out in conjunction to them. The movement urged Frisk into a lateral roll, coming up his back until they were laid out perpendicularly across him. 

_'I don't believe in safety nets.'_

Sans pushed up, giving Frisk space to hook around his torso and into a laid back position, swiftly sitting back on his knees as Frisk continued to roll towards him. He scooped them up off the floor fluidly, holding them close and tucking their head under his chin. Sharing a sweet connected moment.

They were together in this.

_'Strung below that make it alright to let go.'_

From that secure position tucked into Sans, Frisk arched backwards into an easy back bend, arch perfect and firm. Sans responded by slipping underneath them, catching their torso on his boney shoulders and lifting them without the use of his hands. It was so easily done, completely natural like they had practiced the movement hundreds of times before. 

Frisk was at Sans' complete whim now, trusting him explicitly to not let them fall, as they tumbled into his waiting grip, held around his hips and back. He spun their bodies once, rocking back to gain his footing as he let go of Frisk's legs, holding them fast to his left hip as they limply swayed against him from the movement, almost like a rag doll. 

_'You gotta hold on.'_

The second Frisk's feet touched the floor Sans left her momentarily, gracefully turning and allowing them to regain their posture before lacing an arm around their middle and lifting them as he continued to walk forward. Frisk swiftly changed legs during the movement, extending one out fully while holding their foot. 

They brought the extended leg back, Sans catching it in his grip and spinning Frisk in a slow controlled motion, unoccupied hand reaching out to grab his partner's to support them as they arched backwards into the turn. 

_'Or it's gonna slip, slip, slip through your- Slip, slip, slip through your hands.'_

Sans spun Frisk around, letting go of them with no intention of taking them back for the first time in their duet, Frisk started a pirouette as Sans' movements became jerky and disjointed, as if he was collapsing into himself, hands going from his head then into fist by his chests, broken glitchy movements down to his feet. 

Frisk spotted the distressing dance from their partner as they elegantly swung their legs about in a spin, sliding across the floor and towards Sans, hands lacing around his neck in an attempt to bring him out of whatever self-destructive motions he was doing. 

_'Whoa, whoa, whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa.'_

Their touch seemed to snap Sans awake, their eyes connecting, one of his hands going to their waist, the other barely touching their cheek before he leaned in, holding them to himself before turning them forward, spooning himself to their form as they swayed, cheek to cheekbone, a skeletal hand caressing a soft shoulder. 

_Oh it's gonna slip, slip, slip through your- Slip, slip, slip through your hands.'_

Their moves became intimate, Frisk arching an arm up towards Sans's face, his hand tracing their jaw and neck before the other curved around their waist, Frisk's body suddenly dropping down. Sans swiftly brought them up by their shoulders before the same actions started again, an arm arched back, bones against skin then around a slim torso before Frisk successful dropped all the way down this time. 

_'Whoa, whoa, whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa.'_

Sans mirrored Frisk's action, tapping their ankle lightly to indicate they turn, both of them laying down and reaching towards the other, hands lacing and locking their neck and shoulders together as they spun in a half circle on their backs. They pulled one another into a reversed sitting position, and with a final pull they slid upright and back to back.

_'Where's that light I used to know?'_

Sans knelt, hand lacing together to make a small opening which he held out to the now standing Frisk, who placed their wrist into the circle created by his hands, turning away and grabbing their foot as they arched and created a closed loop. The shorter skeleton traced his clasped hands around the circuit that Frisk had made with their arm and leg before coming around to their waste, spinning and dipping them. 

Frisk held their relatively awkward position, arms crossing and reaching up towards Sans' shoulders as they lightly forced him into several turns, guiding him all the way. 

_'Where's that light I used to know?'_

They held each other's hands firmly, Sans leading Frisk into a split and pulling them back up as they made their way across the floor.

Refusing to let the other go, they straightened their arms, forcing Sans' back as Frisk straightened out and came around, turning with a graceful leg in the air and taking the lead as Sans bent forward then fluidly jolted backwards into a laid position on the floor, Frisk guiding him by their linked hands through the entirety. 

_'Where's that light I used to know?'_

Frisk felt it was safe to let go, Sans slowly straightening himself out on the floor by pushing with his feet, and gave into a brief freestyle solo, turning towards their near motionless partner with a toned arm reaching out, a strong leg shooting towards the ceiling, noting that Sans had begun to lift his legs in the air, feet flat and poised, Frisk quickly backed up towards him. 

_'Where's that light I used to know?'_

Sans' feet cushioned securely on Frisk's backside he began to lift them, slowly and with intent, Frisk balancing like a champ and reach up with a hand longingly towards the ceiling they were being lifted to. 

Feet gently spread and allowed Frisk to go against his exposed shins to carry their weight before he threw his legs out, catching Frisk with his hands. Another swift push against their back and they were flipped around and towards him, placed between his knees. Frisk's arms were graceful, perfectly capturing that ballet spirit, hands poised elegantly as she was brought towards him. 

They shifted those perfect hands to carry their own weight. 

_'Slip, slip, slip through your hands.'_

In that moment Sans couldn't help himself. He was so taken with Frisk, how much they had grown, how enrapturing they had become. They were magnetic and Sans couldn't pull himself away. His boney hand traced their soft features, the smallest hint of something other than friendship tainting his actions. 

He wanted to...so desperately needed that connection. At this rate he wouldn't be able to hold himself back. 

_'Whoa, whoa, whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa.'_

Suddenly, the illusion was broken, their train finally pulling into the station loudly, causing Sans to scramble up to his feet from beneath Frisk's perched form. 

What had he almost given in to? 

He spared Frisk a glance as he tried to compose himself, noting that they were still sitting, gazing at him in the same way he was sure he had at them. He looked away, setting his attention on the slowing train. 

Frisk eventually stood, gathering the bag they had discarded and coming up to stand besides Sans as they waited for the metallic train doers to open and allow them passage. 

They were silent, a thin awkward tension permeating the air around them. 

-I'm glad...- Frisk began slowly, dexterous hands barely grabbing his pointedly distracted attention. 

Sans cleared his metaphorical throat, "*about what kiddo?" He desperately wished he was anywhere besides being stuck in a subway car with the person besides him. How could he allow himself to give in to the moment? When had he become so weak? 

-That we're going to be eating soon!- They continued happily, completely oblivious to Sans' inner turmoil. -I'm super hungry now.-

Sans let out a relieved sigh, sweat beading at this temple. "*heh, me too pal."

He ruffled their hair playfully, eye lights going soft, "*me too."

\--

A-n-B: Hopefully this wasn't the worst thing ever and y'all enjoyed it. Please feel free to leave a comment or kudos to let me know! Til next time.


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